


Acceptable Prices

by anysin



Series: TMA October Fills [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Boot Worship, Cock & Ball Torture, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Humiliation, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Barnabas tries to bargain for his freedom. Mordechai makes him beg for it.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Mordechai Lukas
Series: TMA October Fills [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946548
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	Acceptable Prices

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kinktober prompt "boot worship" and Whumptober prompt "Failed escape".

Barnabas finds Mordechai Lukas, at last, in the same garden where he met his fate.

"Mr. Lukas," Barnabas whispers, wanting to strangle the man but not even daring to lunge for him, knowing it won't end well for him. Mordechai has always been big and strong, intimidating, while Barnabas most decidedly is not. All Barnabas can use is his words, keep his voice firm as he shouts: "You must let me out of this place!"

It's a rare occasion that Mordechai smiles in his company, and Barnabas has never heard him laugh. Now that Mordechai finally does, his broad shoulders shaking as he chuckles under his breath, Barnabas discovers that Mordechai's laughter isn't that different from the way he talks, being quiet and restrained. Unlike his words, however, Mordechai's laughter is warm in tone, and full of mockery.

"You gave up on your right to make any demands on me when you refused to pay me," Mordechai says once his laughter quiets down, smiling at Barnabas for few moments more before letting his smile drop. "This is what you get for your deception, Mr. Bennett, and for your constant contempt and disrespect. It's only what you deserve."

"Nobody deserves this!" Barnabas dares to take a step closer, but not another when he sees Mordechai's eyes harden. But Barnabas doesn't back up, even though his voice is shaking as he says: "Please, there must be something I can do. I promise to pay, I swear I will."

"You said it yourself that you can't, Mr. Bennett," Mordechai says, smiling again. "Or was that another lie? How deep do your lies go?"

Barnabas grits his teeth, at loss over what to say. Despair is threatening to freeze him on his spot, but he's trying to keep it at distance, keep his head clear.

"I will stay true to my word this time," he says. "You have taught me a lesson, Mr. Lukas. God, you have taught it well."

There is a wet, stinging feeling in his eyes, but Barnabas resists it, keeping his head held high even though he wants to cower. He meets Mordechai's eyes, who is watching him in contemplative silence, tapping his fingers against the handle of his wooden cane.

"Crawl."

Barnabas tenses. "I beg your pardon?"

"My apologies, I'll be clearer." Mordechai even clears his throat for emphasis, never once looking away from Barnabas. "Throw yourself to the ground and crawl over to me." Mordechai paces backwards for few steps, creating more distance between them. "Show me how sorry you are, Mr. Bennett."

Indignant, Barnabas almost turns around and marches off. But he knows that once he does that, Mordechai will be gone for good; this is his only chance to get out, back into the real world. He swallows before lowering himself down to his knees, trembling as he bends over and rests his elbows against the soft soil beneath him. Mordechai is silent, simply watching him as Barnabas drops himself down onto his stomach.

Grinding his teeth together, Barnabas starts to crawl.

Mordechai says nothing as Barnabas starts to drag himself forward. It's unnerving; even mockery would be better than this complete silence, better than that unflinching, cold stare. Barnabas wants to look away from him and stare at the ground instead, but he forces himself to keep his eyes up, meet Mordechai's gaze as he makes his way over to his feet. Their eyes are still locked when Barnabas finally stops, waiting for Mordechai's next demand.

"I'm afraid I stepped into a puddle on my way over here," Mordechai says, setting one foot in front of Barnabas. "Would you be kind and clean my boots?"

Barnabas flinches, but he says nothing as he finally glances down, starting to get up so he can take his cravat off; he has nothing better on him that he can use. He gasps in surprise when Mordechai's cane comes down hard on his shoulder, sending him back onto the ground.

"You have everything you need right there," Mordechai says. "In your mouth."

Barnabas wants to nurse his sore shoulder, but upon Mordechai's words, his head snaps up. "You must be joking."

"I'm afraid I don't make jokes." Mordechai sets his cane back against the ground, but he tilts his foot up towards Barnabas's face. "And unlike you, I mean what I say. Get on with it."

Again, he doesn't have a choice. But Barnabas hesitates for a long time anyway, torn between wanting to run back to his house, hide from Mordechai forever, and wanting back to where people are, where he can get lost in a crowd again. He leans down, closing his eyes as he pushes his tongue out, and lets it drag over the thick leather of Mordechai's boot.

If there is one mercy, it's that Mordechai's boot isn't actually that dirty; it tastes of leather most of all, but every now and then Barnabas's tongue passes over something sour and horrible and he wants to retch, but he forces himself to continue, laving Mordechai's boot with his tongue. He cleans everything he can all the way up to the hem of Mordechai's trousers, and that's when he feels a tap from the cane on his shoulder.

"Very good, Mr. Bennett," Mordechai says. "I have something else in mind for the other one. Get up on your knees and put your hands behind your head."

Barnabas's mouth tastes of dirt, but as disgusting as that is, as disgusting as he _feels_ , it doesn't prevent sharp fear from passing through him over Mordechai's words. He is shaking as he rises up to his knees, looking Mordechai into his cold, ruthless eyes while Mordechai steps even closer to him, glaring down at him while Barnabas takes his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together.

"Thighs apart, Mr. Bennett."

It's now that Barnabas becomes aware that he's panting, his breathing loud and heavy as he sets his knees wide apart on the soil, opening himself up. He can't help but cry out when Mordechai moves his foot between his spread thighs, pressing it down into Barnabas's vulnerable groin.

"Tell me, Mr. Bennett," Mordechai says. "How sorry are you, really?"

The boot feels hard and unyielding against him, pushing painfully against his loins, against his soft cock. No, not soft; horror grows heavy inside Barnabas when he realizes that he has grown hard, as if demeaning himself before Mordechai Lukas is something alluring and exciting. He whines deep in his throat, which makes Mordechai _grind_ down on him, turning Barnabas's whimper into a sharp cry.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, and this time he can't stop the tears from spilling out from his eyes. He has never been in such pain, or felt such dizzying pleasure, never thought he could feel both at the same time. "I'm sorry for everything, Mordechai. I should have kept my word, I should have never betrayed your trust in me."

Mordechai says nothing, simply pressing down with his foot until Barnabas's self-restraint betrays him and he lunges forward, grasping Mordechai from his coat, gripping onto him with white-knuckled hands as his thighs clench around Mordechai's foot. His cock throbs with both agony and bliss, twitching as Mordechai eases the pressure for a moment before pushing his foot forward again, pressing the sole of the boot tight against Barnabas's tormented flesh.

"For the love of God, Mordechai!"

The cruel boot eases off and presses down, over and over again until Barnabas is coming, sobbing as he grips at Mordechai's coat, leaning against him. Mordechai lets him, keeping his foot there until Barnabas's hips stop jerking, until Barnabas starts to go weak; that's when he pulls his foot away, tugging his coat free from Barnabas's loosening grip as he steps backwards, out of Barnabas's reach.

"I'm not convinced," Mordechai says. "Work on your lies, Mr. Bennett."

By the time Barnabas lifts his tearful gaze back up, Mordechai is already gone.

Barnabas stays in the garden, cock sore and spent, clothes dirty and torn, mouth sour. He knows there will be comfort at his home, that in this world he can walk there in peace; neither thing matters now. What matters is the vague promise in Mordechai's words, that he will be back.


End file.
